Beach Rental(47)
Laura spoke up. “It will look gorgeous.” She stepped back to admire her own close-up flower painting. “Do you think the color’s strong enough? I want the yellow to stand out.” She brushed in a dark line of umber along the edge of a petal, then paused to view it. “I wish I could go to the cookout. You’re going, aren’t you? Donna is. Billy, too. It’s super. Anna holds it every year.”
“Seems like half the island shows up.” Donna wiped her brush on a rag to clear the excess paint.
Anna walked over to them. “I expect you and Ben to be there.”
“Ben told me your cookout is practically an island institution. We’ll be there. What should I bring? Chips or paper plates or something?”
“No need to bring anything, but if you like, bring a dish to share. So many people will be there I never keep a list of who’ll bring what. As long as you and Ben bring yourselves, that’s all I ask.”
Anna’s cookout wouldn’t be all that different from pot-luck holiday lunches she’d participated in at Singer’s, so she settled for bringing her standard contribution, brownies. Who didn’t like a chewy, chocolate brownie?
On the day of the cookout Ben said, “Dress lightly. Even by the water and under the shade of Anna’s trees, it will be hot. It’s the height of summer. The best you can hope for is moderate humidity.”
The aroma of brownies filled the air. They had cooled and were already sliced into portions. Ben was loitering in the kitchen.
Juli took the plastic wrap from the drawer, saying, “The breeze is supposed to be onshore. That’ll be good.” The salt air blowing in from the ocean helped cut the humidity. “Even in Morehead City, the ocean breeze makes a difference.”
“Hah. Well, that’s the same salty, drying breeze that corrodes almost everything.”
“Take the good with the bad, right?”
He was back in the kitchen door, leaning against the lintel, so she walked past him to the counter. She tugged the plastic wrap so it tore against the metal rib on the box, then floated it carefully over the brownies before wrapping the edges under the plate.
“Seems like one is missing. Is that a good idea?”
Ben smiled. “Didn’t want to risk not getting one.”
Juli went upstairs to change while Ben did the same.. It was too hot to leave her hair down. It would be sticking to her neck, driving her crazy. She clipped it up, but the fine strands were slipping out even before she left her room.
Ben’s door was open. She stuck her head in. “Ben?” No answer, but he’d left his slacks folded on the bed.
He was downstairs seated in the rattan rocker with his eyes closed and his head back. Had he fallen asleep? It was past his usual naptime, but he hadn’t looked sleepy when they separated to change for the cookout.
Juli walked softly to where he sat. He was wearing shorts. When had his legs gotten so thin? Why hadn’t she noticed before? It was true he’d been wearing slacks more often.
“Are you asleep?”
He shook his head and opened his eyes. “No, not asleep. I shouldn’t have eaten that brownie, after all. It isn’t sitting well. Please, don’t take offense.”
“No offense. It was too rich for you.” They had been modifying his diet over time, reducing the rich and spicy to bland and tolerable. “Forget the cookout. You lie down and when you get up we’ll do something quiet. We’ll watch a movie or something.”
“You’re all ready. Please go. Anna is expecting us. Give her my apology.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“I can rest whether you’re here to watch me or not. I don’t need a babysitter.” He leaned forward, an arm extended.
“Here.” She pushed the footstool within reach and propped his feet on it. His tone was different. He hadn’t talked that way before—about babysitting. Petulant.
“If you’re sure, I’ll go, but I won’t stay long.”
“Stay for the whole thing. Go have some fun.”
“No, Ben. You don’t get to have your way about everything just because you’re feeling sick. You say ‘go,’ then I’ll go, but I’m not staying for the whole cookout. No matter how much fun it is, I’m coming back home to you. So, there.” Juli knelt by his side and stroked her hand through his hair. It was soft, the strands falling between her fingers like silk.
“Can I get you something before I leave?”
He reached up, grasped her hand and pressed both of his hands around hers “A glass of ice water, if you don’t mind. And I’ll hold you to that.”